


Pheremone, My Lovely

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, During Canon, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-20
Updated: 2006-09-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: A woman strikes her 'Revenge' on the city of Metropolis, but Sam and Dean think it's a love demon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Title stolen from the title of the Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman episode. Yes, this is like all those sex-pollen fics, but it's not pollen and it's a completely silly twist. A little schmoop and slightly crackish, but how much so, I'll leave that up to you to decide.  
 **Beta Thanks:** Thank yous are due to Xscribe and Siberian Skys  
 **Time Frame:** All messed up. Ignore it all.   


* * *

“So,” started Dean, shifting uncomfortably as he leaned against the Impala. Sam handed him the coffee cup and didn't bother glancing at the article in Dean's hands. “I think I found us a new job.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, glancing at the rising sun. “Where?”

“Metropolis.”

“A big city? We tend to stay away from them.”

“I know,” Dean rubbed his face with a hand and took a sip of his black coffee. “But there's something that might be up our alley, and we're only about three hours away. You have to promise not to laugh, though.”

“Ok.”

Dean glanced at his brother, sighing before handing him the newspaper. “I think we're dealing with a love demon.”

Sam snorted before controlling his features. “A what?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, “a love demon. They like to wreak havoc and cause people to fall ridiculously in love. All those emotions? Jealousy develops, rage, envy...it becomes massive chaos. The demon can feast on all that.”

By now Sam was doubled over laughing hard and Dean cuffed him on the back of his head. “I told you not to laugh.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam managed between fits, “admit it. It's pretty fucking funny.”

Dean felt his lips tug up. “Yeah, ok, it is.” He succumbed to Sam's laughter.

A minute later, once they were both calm, they climbed into the car and started for Metropolis. Sam grabbed the newspaper and started chuckling again as he glanced at it.

“Gee. Wonder what tipped you off.”

The usual reputable and straight-laced Daily Planet was suddenly decorated with red hearts in place of the 'A's' and the top story was something about 'love winning'.

“Yeah, College Boy, but I did have more to go on,” Dean replied. “For several months now, there's been a huge rise in sex-based crimes.”

“So what are we going in as?” Sam asked, still smiling widely.

“Reporters. There's no other way Lois Lane will meet with us.”

“Lois...”

“Yeah, we've read some of her stuff before. That Invisible Man story. We thought it was maybe some kind of spectral being but before we got there--”

“Oh, yeah! I remember now. It ended up just being some kind of special ultraviolet light suit.”

“Yep. So, I figure since we don't know anything about what's been going on really, she's the best place to start.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam said, tucking the article away and settling in for a nap.

Dean turned up his AC/DC, thrumming the steering wheel as they drove down the highway.

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When they arrived at the Daily Planet, they were more than a little shocked.

“Dude. It looks like St. Valentine threw up in here,” Dean said in a mixture of awe and utter horror.

Sam just stared, jaw slack.

All around were bunches of red, white, and pink balloons. Confetti covered every surface, there were garlands, dozens of roses in many shades, streamers...the sheer Hallmarkness of it was overwhelming.

And that didn't even begin to describe the people. No one was working. Instead, people were lounging about, luxuriously laying in each others laps, reciting poetry, kissing, feeding each other chocolates. One man in a upper floor office could be heard belting out Elvis' Love Me Tender.

“Whoa,” Sam whispered, finally.

“Have a love balloon!” a petite blonde girl sing-songed as she flew past Dean, handing him a red balloon. Dean shuddered and quickly let it fly to the ceiling, though he held it long enough to wink at her. Sam jabbed him.

“You know, Sammy, I'm not sure just how helpful anyone around here is going to be.”

Sam pointed at the main floor. “Look.” 

There, sitting in almost the middle of the room, was a man in his early thirties dressed in a brown suit and glasses, looking exceedingly uncomfortable as a lace-covered woman giggled in his lap, whispering in his ear.

They exchanged a look and headed down the stairs.

“Hi,” Dean started. “I'm Dean and this is Sam and we're reporters with the Kansas Star. We're looking for Lois Lane.”

The girl in the brunet's lap turned to them. “Me?” She was wide-eyed. “Whatever do you need me for? I'm afraid you'll have to come back another time. Clark and I are busy here.”

Clark abruptly pushed her off his lap and stood up to shake their hands, ignoring Lois as she clung to his other arm. “Hi,” he said, pushing up his glasses. It was like seeing a grown Geek Boy Sam. “I'm Clark Kent and you have no idea how happy I am to see someone not...under the influence. What can I do for you?”

“Actually,” Sam spoke up, gesturing around, “we're here about your offices. The love bug seems to have reached all the way to us in Kansas City and we'd like to look into it. Never can be too much love, right?” Sam winked, hamming it up and Dean smiled. “We're hoping you can lend us some of that Love Potion Number 9 you've got going around this city.”

“Trust me, you don't want it, whatever it is. Look, can we go somewhere else and talk? It's a little distracting around here,” he grimaced as he fended off Lois while she tried to kiss him.

“I can see that,” Dean smirked and winked at Lois.

She let out a disgusted sound and stamped on his toe.

“Ouch!” he yelped. Those heels hurt!

“My heart belongs to one man and one man only. Clark,” she sighed dreamily, then added a scathing, “Pervert,” at Dean.

Clark smiled in sympathy, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. “Lois, I'll be back, alright? Just stay right here.”

“You're leaving?” She pouted and even Sam couldn't help staring at her pink lips and the flounce her hair gave.

“I'll be back soon,” Clark called to her, quickly ushering them away and towards the copy room.

When Dean opened the door though, they all got an eyeful of a skinny woman with highlighted hair, in a tight dress pushed down to her waist and a man with thinning hair. 

They backpedaled fast.

“Hot,” Dean muttered, “but so not what I wanted to see.”

They quickly stepped into a storage closet, which fortunately, was empty. Squished in a little close, they tried to avoid a lot of movement, though Sam's hand managed an accidental brush against Dean's ass, and Dean found himself gripping onto the amazingly strong biceps of Clark.

“Er, sorry,” Sam apologized.

“Anyway,” Dean rushed, trying to escape the heat creeping from his ears into his face. “What do you know about what's going on?”

“Nothing really. It just started last night.”

“Really? We've read up on Metropolis and it seems there's been a lot of love-related activities lately.”

“Has there? What do you mean?”

Dean and Sam explained it to him and Clark looked pensive. “I'll look into it. Maybe I can figure out what's causing it.”

“You know,” Sam noted, “you seem to be the only one unaffected.”

“Yeah, it's uh, pretty weird,” Clark shifted, seemingly nervous. “I don't know what it is. But no one is acting his or herself.”

“Hmmm...” Dean muttered. Why would a demon not affect one person? Was Clark the demon?

They said their goodbyes and, shaking their heads at the man in his office still belting Elvis, they walked back up the stairs and out. As they were going out the giant entrance doors, a black limo pulled up and a stately man with a cunning face stepped out. He nodded at them and walked in. Behind him came a short woman with pale skin and white-blonde hair. Dean stopped to smile at her.

“Hey, there.”

“De-ean,” Sam whined at him.

The woman turned around, smiling coyly at them both. “Oh, don't you two make a cute couple?”

“Oh, no, ma'am,” grinned Dean widely, ignoring the tug on his sleeve from Sam. “We're brothers. I'm Dean and this is Sam.”

“Oh, really? Well.” A queer glint appeared in her eyes. She suddenly held up a little perfume bottle and aimed it straight at them. Before they could react, she released an atomized cloud of cloying perfume in their faces. As they both coughed, gagging on the smell, she continued on her way. “How nice to meet you both.”

“Bitch,” wheezed Dean once he could breath again. “What the hell was that?”

“I don't know, but it sure as hell stunk.”

Dean nodded emphatically as he started toward the Impala residing a few blocks down. “Hey, bro?”

“Yeah?”

“If I ever get like any of those people,” he jammed a thumb in the direction of the Daily Planet, “shoot me, 'k?”

Sam just grinned, not being able to imagine his brother ever getting sappy like that, love demon or not.

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They made it through the rest of the afternoon, looking up various cases that seemed to fit a similar profile. So far, nothing dramatic stuck out—nothing seemed to really resemble chaos yet, just a bunch of sappiness that made Dean nauseous. He had told Sam his theory that maybe Clark was the one causing it, until Sam pointed out probably not since he seemed very uncomfortable with Lois.

“Well, could be his plan backfired. I guess we can find out more tomorrow.” He slammed Sam's laptop shut. “I'm hungry. Let's get out of here.”

It was during dinner that it started.

He noticed Sam's hands as he gestured. He noticed Sam's lips as he talked, his tongue as he swept over his lips, getting the last drip of barbecue sauce. He'd never noticed just how big and accommodating his mouth looked.

He'd never really realized just how grown up Sam had become—what a man he was. His hair curled up on the ends tonight and he was animated, more so than usual. He was talking—about what Dean wasn't paying attention to anymore—and smiling nonstop. Face it, his brother was hot.

Wait a minute. His brother. What the hell?

“Is something wrong, Dean?” Sam was suddenly frowning and Dean realized then that he didn't want Sam to frown. He was much better looking when he wasn't moping and he didn't want Sam to be unhappy.

“Nah,” he said, already forgetting why certain thoughts seemed weird and out of place.

“Ok,” Sam grinned, nudging his foot underneath the table and winking.

“Hey, you want to get of here?” Dean asked.

“More than you know,” Sam replied and they hurriedly headed back to their motel on the outskirts of Metropolis.

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How Dean went from noticing his brother's hands to oh-my-God-gotta-have-him-now, he had no clue. Something had taken over his brain and it was like he had nothing holding him back. He simply felt like ravishing his brother.

“Oh, Sammy,” he breathed as he pressed his brother up against the wall of their motel room. He started unzipping Sam's hoodie, canting his hips toward Sam who met every thrust with his own, biting at his bottom lip to keep the moans in.

He stepped back and both quickly stripped as fast as possible in silent agreement. They were both panting hard when they faced each other again, but Dean was suddenly struck with romantic sentiments.

He slid a hand up Sam's neck, to grasp lightly in his curls and raised onto the balls of his feet to brush his lips against those soft and pink ones. He whispered sweet nothings—things he'd never have thought to say to any man before—and he guided them towards a bed.

Dean slowly pushed him back onto the bed and Sam arched into him as he went down. He slid one of his brother's thighs up, caressing the upper thigh, loving the softness of Sam's leg hair. He slid his hand all the way up to rub at Sam's hip, fingering the groove that he couldn't wait to get off on.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled Sam's throat, feeling the scrape of scruff and God, it had been a long time since he'd felt that. He shivered as he felt Sam swallow and then just barely hum in the back of his throat. Dean licked at the Adam's apple before him. He gently nibbled and sucked hard enough that the next day there'd be a bruise. 

A mark to show Sam was his. That this had happened.

He felt his head lifted in Sam's hands and looked into eyes the shade of deep forest trees, that rich brown. He swore he could see starlight reflected in them, though the curtains were closed and there was no way in the big city that stars would be visible anyway. But it gave Sam a sparkling quality and he lowered his lips again.

This time the kiss was all tongues, slip-sliding against one another, wet and messy and oh-so good. Sam took his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling at it and then soothing it away with soft, dry kisses. They made out until their lips were swollen and red, hands flying every where, charting new territory.

Hands measured and felt each scar, remembered the story behind them all. Hands traced torsos, outlined muscles that were beginning to become slick with sweat.

Dean settled himself within Sam's thighs, which spread to accommodate him. Their cocks rubbed together, wet with pre-come. They nibbled at ears, necks, lips—Sam even kissed him on each eyelid. Fairly silent, the only sound echoing in the room were sucking noises and the faint whisper of sweaty skin.

When they both came, it was just like that—quiet little moans, just rubbing against each other, enjoying the touch and sensations, the smells.

Dean tried to stay up on his elbows, but Sam tugged him down, and he lay his head on the younger man's chest. He rested on his hip, just outside Sam's legs so they wouldn't stick together. Dean let his eyes fall shut and he felt more than heard Sam's chuckle as his eyelashes tickled him. Dean latched onto Sam's nipple, playing with it. He rolled it in his teeth, flicked it with his tongue, licked at it like a cat with milk, and sucked on it, till a faint purple color began to appear. The more he did it, the higher pitched Sam's little whines went and his heart beat faster below Dean's ear.

Finally unable to stand it, Sam flipped them over.

“Hands above your head, lover.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at that, but it didn't bother him as much as it seemed it should so he just did what he was told.

Sam began with his neck, leaving a love bite where his shoulder met his collarbone, then traveling lower to Dean's abdomen, where he dutifully traced each and every ridge of his six-pack, licking all their mutual come off.

Dean let out a huge moan when Sam bit at his hipbones and he couldn't help wriggling his hips, and his half-erection became a full one once more. Sam teased him, licking his balls, his upper thighs, pushing apart his legs and kissing him right behind his balls. Dean's hips were shifting madly now, unable to find any purchase and with arms above his head, he couldn't help feeling really open.

But when Sam looked up at him, eyes peeking from beneath his bangs and sucked on the head of his cock, taking it into his mouth, licking at the leak, Dean couldn't help feeling he'd never trusted anyone so much in his life. He couldn't help feeling the love that simply wanted to overflow and drown him in happy tears. He choked back the knot in his throat.

“Dean...”

“Yeah?”

“You got any stuff...?”

“In the first aid kit.”

Dean watched Sam's backside as he slid off the bed and dug through the kit on the floor, ass sticking up in the air. Oh, he was so going to fuck that ass...it was perfect. Lighter in tone than the rest of Sam, but not by much, it suited Sam's long and lanky body, offset by powerful upper thighs.

Dean longed to touch himself, but kept his arms where he'd been told to put them. He watched as Sam literally crawled back on the bed, watched his shoulders bunch, the hungry gleam in his brother's eyes—something he'd never seen there before.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Sam?” he asked and was surprised when Sam stopped and blushed slightly. “I'm serious,” he continued. “All your lean muscles and your lips, that pink tongue, your eyes, your hands. I could have a love affair with your hands.”

Sam was still flushing but he laughed at that. “You get all of me, though. No need to make off with just one part.”

And that comment made Dean increasingly harder and he arched his back, pushing up, needing to feel Sam.

“Sammy,” he whispered. “God, need you so bad--please.” His voice kept rising in pitch but Sam's just shushed him, rubbing a soothing hand over his hip, and eventually he calmed down; fought past the immediacy. 

“Have you done this before?” Sam asked, voice lower and husky.

Dean just nodded. Not for awhile, but it didn't matter.

Sam made his fingers slick and then just let one trace around his hole, caressing and slowly easing in. The extra large finger just kept pushing in all the way to his knuckles, until he could feel the rest of Sam's hand against his ass, until Dean was panting and writhing.

His brother covered his lips with soft kisses, taking all his sounds into his self. One finger slid out and was replaced with two and Dean's movements became twice as needy. When one of them brushed his prostrate, he yelped and heard Sam laugh.

“Jerk,” he panted.

“You bet,” Sam replied smugly. “You ready?”

Dean nodded once more. God, he'd been ready since the restaurant.

“Open for me,” Sam directed, and hell if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever heard come out of Sam's mouth.

He spread his legs wider and Sam settled on his knees between them and pushed his head against Dean's entrance. Dean whimpered as he was penetrated and wrapped his legs around Sam, urging him on faster and deeper. He was turning into a girl, he thought. What the hell was wrong with him? But when Sam gasped and tilted his head back, baring his throat to Dean, Dean forgot all about girlyness and simply focused on breathing and drinking in the sight before him.

Sam's hands crept up his thighs and rested on his hips, pulling Dean up and into his lap.

“Can I...Can I put my arms down?” he asked. He wanted permission to touch Sam when he wanted.

“Ye-ah,” Sam said brokenly.

Dean's hands came down and twisted into the sheets by his sides and he tipped his head back, eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of being full. Full with Sam. The one person who mattered in the world. He let out a sigh.

That seemed to encourage the man above him, who began slowly grinding his hips.

“Holy fu--!” Dean let out, eyes flying wide open. He was used to men just moving and slamming in and out, which sure as hell got the job done, but this...this was slow and sexy and hit every spot inside him that could be pleasurable. He was able to feel every ridge, every inch of Sam.

Sam smiled down at him with eyes half-mast, black with lust. “I love you like this, Dean. You're completely incoherent and those noises you keep making just blow my mind.”

“I'll blow something anyway,” muttered Dean, embarrassed, but then Sam's cock hit his prostate and that felt even better than his finger, so Dean let it slide.

Sam's hands ran up the length of his torso, brushing his sides, pinching his nipples, caressing his collarbone. He leaned down to kiss the area where his shoulder met his neck and that shift caused unceasing direct contact with that spot inside and Dean clawed at Sam to keep him there, letting out a long moan.

His brother seemed to get the hint and leaned up just a little further to reach Dean's lips, and began thrusting. It started out as shallow thrusts, and his tongue danced across Dean's mouth, until he was arching up and opening his mouth so that Sam naturally slid in. Then the thrusts got harder and faster and so did Sam's kisses. They were wet and sloppy. Half the time they missed each other, but it didn't matter. Reaching around Sam, Dean dug his blunt nails into his back, leaving half moon marks and he used the position to get himself off. Rubbing his cock against Sam's washboard stomach was great for friction and he could feel the pressure building in his balls. 

Dean kept running his hands up and down his gorgeous brother's back, brushing the top of his ass once and Sam shuddered at that, suddenly pulling up, arching his back, and his grip shifted to Dean's penis and the other hand dug fingers into his hip. Dean watched as his eyes fluttered closed and he let out a low growl before Dean felt him shooting his come inside him. That and the hand on his cock, jacking fast and hard had him in the throes of an orgasm a moment later. Sam kept pumping his hips, though slower now, and milked Dean completely as strands of thick come splattered over Sam's hand and onto Dean's groin and abdomen. 

They stayed like that for awhile, both breathing hard, Dean staring at Sam whose head was still tilted back and his mouth was parted. Finally, Sam seemed to come back to himself and he opened his eyes, staring at Dean. Something more than lust was reflected in those eyes now and Dean slid up enough for Sam's dick to pull out and then he wrapped his thighs around his brother, bringing a hand up and caressing the hard jaw, felt the barely-there scratch of Sam's scruff.

Staring right at Sam, he moved in, tilting his head just enough to lay a closed-mouth kiss on his still parted lips. He kept one hand cupped on Sam's cheek—thumb rubbing at his cheek bones—the other wrapped around his neck, smashing their lips together. This kiss was unhurried and gentle—loving—until suddenly Sam grinned and pulled away, pressing him back to the bed.

Not sure he liked the glint in Sam's eyes, he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Sam had manhandled him onto hands and knees in front of him.

“What are you--?” he started, but again, Sam shushed him.

Dean stayed like that for what seemed like forever and he thought maybe Sam was pulling a joke on him. He could feel his brother's come beginning a slow run down his inner thighs and he felt sticky and uncomfortable. He again opened his mouth, but then he felt the solid, warm press of a tongue on his thigh and it snapped shut.

“Mmmmmm,” Sam hummed, as his tongue began a journey from Dean's knee to lap at the come. Dean could feel the wet pressure up and over the back of his thighs, occasionally dipping in between them. It tickled and felt good and awkward all at once. He was open in a way he hadn't been five minutes ago, privates completely on display and vulnerable to Sam now.

Dean shuddered at the first touch of wet heat to his sore opening. At the second touch—very gentle—he bucked back in to it.

“God, Sam, I, holy shit,” he rambled as Sam's strokes became faster and more demanding. Dean could feel liquid being pushed back into his hole as Sam's tongue flickered in, and it was cold and sticky but felt amazing. Little kisses were placed around his entrance, on his cheeks, his tail bone. Teeth nipped but the bites were soothed with a smooth lick.

Dean tried to turn his head, but he couldn't see what Sam was actually doing, so instead, his hung his head and wound up with a better sight as Sam pushed his legs apart and took one last pull at his pucker before flipping onto his back, hands gripping the backs of his thighs and proceeded to lick at his balls, sucking one then the other into his mouth gently, then a little faster. His cock soon grew hard for the third time and Sam licked at that too before bringing it into his mouth wholly. Dean wasn't sure he had anything left in him, but it seemed his body thought different.

When Sam rolled his eyes up to stare at him through eyelashes and bangs, Dean couldn't help the downward thrust of his hips. And when his brother made no objection but just kept staring, he did it once more. And again and again until finally, Sam slid a finger into his already tender and stimulated hole and then Dean was coming, long and hard, stars in front of his eyes.

Sam pulled away right before he collapsed onto the bed. Dean was breathing hard, utterly spent, as the taller man came up beside him, and they kissed in a way that was more sharing breath than anything and Dean reached out a hand, curling it in Sam's hair.

“Remind me to have flavored lube, next time,” Sam joked.

Dean grinned then planted a kiss on his baby brother's temple before falling asleep to Sam's smile and quiet breathing.

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Dean woke up the next day with one massive headache. He wriggled and felt a warm body against his. Male, too. He must have gotten really drunk last night, he didn't remember going home with anyone but Sam. He snuggled in, rubbing his nose into the person's neck and listening to the quiet 'hmm' the guy made.

Then his eyes shot open.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! This could not be what it looked like. He had just nuzzled into _Sam's_ neck and _Sam_ had just made that noise. 

He jumped out of bed and watched as his brother rolled back into the heat he'd just left. Looking down at himself, Dean saw he was naked. And judging by the looks of it, so was Sam. The night came back to him.

Dean in Sam's lap, being fucked.

Rimming and a hell of a blow job.

“Sam!” he hissed, as he quickly looked for boxers. When Sam didn't budge, he poked him. “Sam!”

Sam slowly opened his eyes, smiling. “Oh, I had the best dream, Dean...” he trailed off, looking confused. “Why are you wearing my underwear?”

“Oh, shit!” Dean moaned, quickly ripping them off, only realizing he was now naked and his morning erection was right about Sam's eye level. And Sam staring at it only made it fill with blood faster.

“Dean...” Sam started again and then looked at the beds. Only one was undone. He wriggled under the blankets and then a horrified expression came onto his face. “Oh, fuck, Dean, did we do what I think we did? Did I have sex with _you_?”

Something in Sam's tone made Dean defensive. “Well, jeez, Sammy. I don't hear you complaining last night, if I remember right.”

“But--! But, you're my brother! You're _Dean_. Please, tell me this is a nightmare.”

Dean moved away from Sam and grabbed a pair of jeans. Screw boxers.

“Umm, I think we did. But we can't dwell on that. We gotta find out why the hell we did.”

“You looked really hot last night,” came from Sam's mouth before he clapped a hand over it. He mumbled something from behind it that Dean thought sounded like, “I'm going to be sick,” and rushed to the bathroom.

Dean cringed, but after a minute there was no sound. Then the faucet turned on and he dared venture in.

“Sammy...”

“Oh, God. I fucked my own brother. Do you know how wrong that is?” Sam looked at him in the mirror, water dripping from his front bangs and chin.

“I think I do, yeah. Like illegal-in-fifty-states kind of wrong.” Dean leaned against the counter, staring at Sam from the side.

“More like incest-Bible-going-to-hell kind of wrong.”

Dean made a face. “Since when do you care about that?”

Sam shrugged, almost looking sheepish. “I guess since I just had sex with my brother?”

“Thanks, Sam. Way to make a man feel good about himself.”

Sam laughed weakly at that but then grew sober again. “I want to be sick, but I don't feel sick.”

Dean sighed. “I know. I feel like I should feel bad and dirty, but honestly?” He grimaced up at Sam from beneath his eyelashes, questioning.

Sam nodded tersely. 

“I feel real good, actually.”

Sam's eyes widened, but then he lowered his head and whispered, “Me too.”

Dean let out a huff of air. “Ok, great. Let's go back to the Daily Planet and see if Clark's got anything new.” He squashed down any weird feelings, right or wrong, that were swirling about in his mind. It was time to deal with this Dean Winchester style—find whatever was responsible for the shit going on and kill it.

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When they walked back into the Planet, everything was once again a bustling professional newspaper room.

“Weird,” Dean said. “It's almost like it wears off.”

“It does,” came a new voice. 

They both turned around to see a guy in slightly baggy clothes with brown hair, cut in a short style.

“Hi, I'm Jimmy Olson.”

“Hey, Jimmy,” Sam shook the kid's hand. “What did you mean by 'it does'?”

“Well, you were talking about the love potion, right? Yeah, Clark figured it out. Some lady's perfume. Something with pheromones.”

“Pheromones?” Sam and Dean said simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Jimmy looked at them funny. “Go ask Clark.”

They searched the floor and finally found Lois and Clark pouring over pictures.

“Hey, Clark!” Dean yelled above the basic newsroom noise.

The man looked up and waved them over. “Hey, Dean, Sam. So we figured out what was causing the love madness.”

Lois rolled her eyes, fluffing out a strand of hair hanging in her eyes. Dean laughed. She seemed to be staying far away from Clark at the moment. Bristling, she started talking over Clark. “Look, I don't know if you boys--”

Boys? The brothers exchanged a glance. She couldn't be much older than Sam and was certainly younger than Dean.

“--really are who you say you are or what you want, but Clark says he knows you and so here's the deal. This woman,” she pointed at the photograph, “Miranda. She made a perfume with animal pheromones in it. We found out it suppresses basic inhibitions.”

“The other thing we found out,” Clark spoke up, sitting on the edge of Lois' desk, “is that it only works if there's already a basic attraction to the person.” He poked teasingly at his partner. “That's why I wasn't affected by it.”

“Oh, please, Clark. You so are.”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other again. These two clearly were going to get married one day. The sexual tension? Oh, yeah.

“You know,” Sam glanced down at the image. “I think we saw her. Yeah, Dean! Do you remember? She was the lady who sprayed that crap at us.”

“Oh, yeah...” Dean said, shifting his weight. “She followed that guy from the limo.”

“I bet it was Lex,” Clark said. 

“Lex?” Sam asked.

“Lex Luthor. He often sponsors scientists. I bet he's behind this. We did see she worked at Luthor Industries for awhile, Lois.”

“Oh, Clark,” Lois smacked him on the arm. “I don't think Lex would be behind something like this. But I'll ask him about Miranda tonight.”

They watched as Clark pursed his lips behind her back. Dean stepped up to Sam, whispering in his ear, “I don't think this is our kind of gig. Wanna get out of here?”

Sam nodded and he thought maybe Sam leaned back into him a little bit.

“Well, it seems like that's it then, huh? You guys have it all under control,” Dean said out loud.

“You don't want to stick around and see what happens?”

“Nah. We were just here about what was causing the feelings of love. I think we got what we need for out story. Say,” he paused out of curiosity. “What was that perfume called?”

“Revenge,” the two reporters chorused.

After they shook hands with Lois and Clark, they heard Lois mutter after them, “What kind of reporters are they? Not even finishing a decent story. Small town newspapers.” She tsked and Dean had a hard time not laughing. If she only knew...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night, they found themselves dancing around one another, afraid to touch each other at all and even Dean was too embarrassed to confront it, so he just ignored it as usual. But it was hard to do when they kept catching each other eyes and quickly looking away.

Finally, when they'd tripped over one another in the bathroom for the second time, Sam sighed and stopped Dean.

“We have to deal with this.”

“No, we don't,” Dean ground out. 

Sam fidgeted, but continued, “Yes, we do.”

Dean pushed him up against the sink, arms trapping his brother. “Fine,” he said forcefully. “Look, we can chalk it up to that stupid perfume. That's all it was.”

“Yeah, but don't you remember what Clark said? It only works when you're already attracted to each other. How could I be attracted to my own brother?”

“We can ignore that, bro. Honestly, it never happened.”

“But it did,” Sam hissed putting his face right in his own. “And you know what? I'm not so sure I want to ignore it, but it's suddenly gotten very awkward. Dammit, Dean.” Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean, however, was shocked. He jostled Sam's head up. “What? What did you say?”

Sam moaned and tried to get away, but Dean wouldn't let him.

“Oh, no you don't. You don't want to ignore it? Neither do I.”

And with that, Dean leaned his entire body into Sam's, pushing him back and up onto the sink as he let his lips glide over his brother's, soft and sure, before opening them and teasing Sam's tongue into his own mouth.

Sam resisted for a moment, but then seemed to collapse into Dean, grabbing his biceps and kissing back ardently. Dean pulled away long enough to take Sam's shirt off and toss it on the floor. Running his hands up and down Sam's chiseled abs and pectorals, he flicked both nipples.

“You like that, don't you, Sammy?”

“Mmm,” Sam moaned. “Dean...”

“Yeah?” Dean whispered leaning in closer. “What do you want?”

Sam pushed him back. “No, we can't.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. This perfume and the whole...”

“Sam.” Dean stepped back, despite the burgeoning erection that was making his pants uncomfortable. “Fine, you don't want to do this? Ok. You're the one who said it in the first place.” He walked out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, head in his hands. God damn, but that lady really pulled a doozy.

A minute later, a shirtless Sam walked out, shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets. Dean refused to glance up because he wasn't so sure he'd be able to step back a second time. Yeah, he knew it was wrong. Yeah, it wasn't something he'd ever imagined doing to his baby brother. And yeah, it had started out with some stupid animal hormones or something.

But that still didn't explain that evening. Didn't explain why last night had felt so good.

“I...”

“Save it,” he snapped, still not looking up.

“Dean, I—I do want it. I want you. It's like this morning when I thought I should be sick, but couldn't. Only I don't even feel sick anymore.” His brother sat beside him, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “I think we've got something unresolved ourselves here, just like Lois and Clark do. Only, I don't want to take as long as I'm sure they will. I don't want to dance around it. God, Dean, I haven't felt so good as I did last night for a long time. Maybe you are what I've been needing. With what we do, it's not like much else can last. Not with anyone else. But you and I—we'll always be together.”

Dean looked up. Had Sam commented on the glaze in his eyes, he would have denied it fervently, but it didn't mean it wasn't there. “How can I know--?”

He was cut off as Sam grabbed his chin in one giant, beautiful hand and pulled their lips together. The kiss tasted salty and maybe it was reflecting both of their unshed tears. He let Sam push him back before he broke the kiss.

“No perfume to blame this time.”

“I know,” Sam nipped at his ear.

Dean moaned and pushed Sam back one more time. “This time though, dude, no mushiness. We're men and we don't need that kind of crap. No perfume-enhanced Hallmark moments, k? And any emo things said up to this point was 'cause of that shit.”

“You got it. And I promise,” Sam grinned against his throat. “If you get sappy ever again, I'll make sure to kick your ass next time.”

Dean laughed and hauled his brother up for another kiss. “One more thing. If you ever call me 'lover' again, I will so spank you into next week.”

“Promises, promises.”


End file.
